


Torn Pages

by mizufallsfromkumo



Series: A Writer and His Muse [6]
Category: Common Law
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Angst, Castle AU, Gen, M/M, Past Violence, Pre-Slash, Writer!Travis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizufallsfromkumo/pseuds/mizufallsfromkumo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castle AU.  Wes deals with the aftermath of Officer Derek Henry's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torn Pages

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after Unseen Details. -crying in the corner-

Everything blurred for Wes after Derek Henry hit the ground, but it comes to him in patches of clarity.  He tired to save Henry, because _god damn it_ who killed Paekman, but in the end it was too late.  Then Marks was pulling him away form it all, and all Wes can do is stare at the blood on his hands.  He killed is only chance at a lead, how could he be so stupid.  Next he's in Sutton's office, his hands are clean, and Sutton is speaking him in hushed tones, but Wes was half listening.  He feels like crying, but he suppress it.  He stood after some times and placed is badge and gun on Sutton's desk and Sutton is staring at him in shock.

"They're probably going to suspend me anyway."  Wes remembered saying before roboticly turning and slipping out of the station without anyone noticing.

A mix of emotions blindside him when he reaches his hotel room, but he shoves it all away.  He changes into his pajamas emotionless.  He crawls into bed curls up under the covers and attempt to sleep away the nightmare.

* * *

Sleep ultimately fails Wes.  Flashes of what happened with Paekman mix in that what happened with Derek.  It all just haunts Wes in a way he can't escape.  He feels numb, with the possibility of a breakdown looming in the distance, but he's not going let himself cave into that.  He's been through worse, he would get through this just fine.

However, he keeps seeing the blood on his hands.  He knows his hands are clean, but he scrubs till it feels like its gone every time he sees it. 

Part of him knew he shouldn't feel guilty.  He was just doing his job and Henry had moved to take a shot at Marks, so Wes had reason.  Kate and Amy would back him on that.  Yet there is another part of Wes, a part that is screaming and laughing, because Henry deserved it, he helped the robbers that killed Paekman. Another part is fuming in the distance because Henry deserves more then a bullet to the heart, he deserved _years_ in prison.  All of them just pull at Wes mind and he just wants someone to tell him it was one way.  He's not sure he wants someone to tell him it's all okay, because there is no way in hell it is.  The whole situation is a mess and Wes is drowning in the middle of it.

The day passes quickly enough for Wes to feel like he's not completely losing it.  Sutton calls to tell him that he's getting a week of paid leave and see how he was handling it, Wes lies through his teeth and he didn't care if Sutton noticed.   Dr. Ryan calls, but Wes wants to sort himself out before he sees her, if she knew he was delaying she didn't say anything and just agreed to see him in a few days when they usually see each other.

He tries to sleep again, but it's another restless night.

* * *

Wes was buried deep in Anthony's case file he's seen countless times, when there's a knock at his door.  He turned to the door and started, half feeling like he imagined it, but then some more knocks sound.  He hung his head and sighed as he got up from the couch.  While he wasn't expecting anyone, nor did he want to see anyone, he can't avoid them.  For starters, he doesn't feel up for a fight.  He just wants them to see he's fine, he's handling it, and they don't have to worry, it's just a waste of their time.

However when he opens the door, he was a little caught of guard.  Marks is standing there with an array of grocery bags, and one of his smiles that rivals the sun.  Wes can only stare.

"Man, I don't know if I should find it cool or sad that you live in a hotel."  Marks said, pushing his in, smiling like there is nothing wrong in the world.  For a second, Wes lets himself buy into it, but not completely because he shot someone two days ago.  "It's a nice room, so let's just go for cool."

"Why are you here, Marks?"  Wes asked. 

"I brought lunch."  Marks grins out, holding up his collections of bags before he dumped them on the little table by the kitchenette.  "I didn't know what you like, so I kind of got... _everything_.  I got Italian, Mexican, Chinese, Thai, Indian.  Honestly, any type of food you think of, I probably have it."

Wes watched as Marks starts to ramble on while he's pulling stuff out of the bags.  "That's nice, Marks," He started out, causing Marks to grin and turn to him.  "But I already ate lunch."  Wes lied. 

The last thing he really ate was days ago, he hasn't felt up to eating very much lately, try as he might.  Marks' gave him a look that seemed like a mix of pity, a deep concern, and annoyance buried under a fake look of surprise.  Wes glared and watched the fake surprise melt away.  It's kind of comforting that he doesn't keep trying to play Wes, for that Wes is thankful for.

"Wes..." Marks sighed out.

"Don't, please, don't."  Wes hissed pinching the bridge of his nose.  "I'm handling it."  He isn't, not really, he's shoving it away, and for the most he feels like it's working.  Wes just has to take the time to collect himself.

"Has the definition for handling it changed recently!"  Marks suddenly bit back.  There's a sudden angry flourish to him.  "Because, there is no way in hell, this is handling it!"  He gestured wildly to Wes.  "When was the last time you slept."

"Last night."  Wes barked in reply.

"How long?"

"Long enough."

A tense silence sat on the two of them.  The weight of it makes Wes feel like he's going to break.  But he stands strong, because he is dealing in his own way.  Maybe it's not the healthiest way, but he doesn't exactly have a line of people he feels like he can talk to.

"Look, I'm tired, Marks."  Wes started out, walking towards his bed.  "It was nice of you to swing by, bu--"

"You know, no one is blaming you for killing Officer Henry."  Marks cuts him off suddenly.  It caused Wes to stop in his steps.  "You had every legal right to do what you did.  Everything is all clean and good.  You did the right thing."

A silences passes.

"Why doesn't it feel like that then?"  Wes asked slowly, with an even breath as he turned to face Marks who is just suddenly beside him. 

Marks gave a shrug. Wes wants to tear him to shreds, because that's not a good enough answer.  However, before Wes can enough breath an angered breath, Mark's arms are around him.  He goes stiff at the feeling, but Marks just keeps a gentle and firm hold on him.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Wes feels safe and grounded.  Finally something to ground him, something that makes him feel whole and good and put together.  He's warm and feels oddly at home in Marks arms.  He doesn't feel like the universe is just pressing down on him to see how much he can take. Something inside Wes breaks, because his knees give out and he grips at Marks' shirt like it's a life line. 

"I still see the blood on my hands," He admits in a whisper, and Marks holds a little tighter.

Wes didn't remember sinking to the floor, but he also didn't remember falling asleep either.

* * *

The sound of typing greet him when he woke up.  Wes awake with a silent start, at a momentary lose of where he was, but then he registered he was in his hotel room bed.  All cuddled up under the covers, warm and feeling like he woke up from hibernation.  He stretched silently under the covers, he didn't even remember crawling into bed and falling asleep.  He sat up with a bit of a sigh, rubbing the sleep out of his eye.

"Sleeping Beauty wakes,"  Marks' voice suddenly sounded.

 _Oh right_.

Wes groaned a bit and feel back against the pillows of the bed.  That's right, Marks came over for lunch to see how he was doing.  Which had been fine, before Marks showed up and didn't leave, but Marks worked his way into his cracks.  He pulled the covers over his head and groaned loudly.  God, he practically unfolded.

"Oh no you don't."  Marks said suddenly. 

Wes heard him thundering over, and he sighed again, yet he doesn't fight when Marks as he pulled him up.  "What are you still doing here, Marks?"

"Writing another chapter of my new book before my editor has my ass,"  Marks grinned out, "while also making sure you eat something."  Marks sprang up from the bed and over the kitchenette. 

Wes sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed.  "I can take care of myself, Marks.  I don't need you to be a mother hen."

Marks gave him a knowing look before he tossed a container in a microwave.  "You were the one who looked like a train wreck.  Not to mention you slept for eight straight hours after passing out in my arms.  Which was kind of adorable."  Wes growled, as he stood from the bed, strolling over to where Marks was standing.  The microwave beeped behind him, and he whipped around, before holding out the container for Wes.  "Here eat these."

The detective raised an eyebrow as he peered down at it.  "What are these?"

"Tamales.  Eat up."  Marks said with a grin as he head back to his laptop. 

Wes started at them for a moment.  He huffed a grabbed a fork, strolling over to small table and sitting down in a chair.  He carefully dug in, he gave a surprised sound at the pleasant flavor. He dug in for a bit more, suddenly a feeling the day old hunger full force and wanting to eat.  Marks chuckled from behind his computer. 

"Foster mom."  Marks grinned before Wes can even think to ask.  "Mothers always make the best food, don't you know that."

"My mother use to burn water."  Wes comment after swallowing a mouthful of food.

"No wonder you drank the station's coffee without flinching."

"Write the damn chapter of your book, Marks."

Marks just chuckled behind his computer.  Wes pretended not to noticed Anthony's case file was nicely put away in it's box as he ate.

* * *

"Why'd you come over, Marks?"  Wes asked, as he watched Marks collect his things.

Marks stuck around, annoyingly, for a few days, against Wes' wishes for him to leave.  Wes doesn't really want to admit, but it was kind of nice.

It was kind of nice to just kind of have someone there.  Someone who knew he was broken up on the inside, but wasn't afraid to through punches and make the world like it is.  Someone who made him feel okay.  Wes could have done with a lot less of the mother hen behavior, or the silent god-damn-it-Wes-talk-to-me looks.  However, there were moments when Marks would hand him a beer or a coffee and throw out a joke.  Or he would be the curious writer he was, and glance over Wes' should and just silently wondering, till Wes shoved him away, or let him in a little more.

"I can't worry about my muse,"  Marks said with a laugh.  Wes rolled his eyes and punched Travis' arm.  Marks hissed in fake pain, but smiled.  "I'm serious, Wes."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, now, after I made sure you didn't waste away."  Marks said rolling his blue eyes. However then he gave Wes a serious look.  "Wes, you deserve a lot more credit then you get.  What you've been through, most people would be a psychotic mess, or they would be so pissed of at the world, but for you its just sort of another crack or dent.  You kind of keep going under it all."  He paused for a moment.  "Thanks for letting me help though."

Wes snorted at that.  "Marks, you threaten to shove food down my throat when I said I wasn't hungry for breakfast when you first came over.  You forced your way in."

"But you let me stay."

"After I realized you weren't just going to go away."  Wes said shoving him towards the door.  "Thank you though, for swinging by...and caring enough to know what I needed."   Wes glanced down at the ground.  "Not a lot of people who do what you did for me."

"That's what partners are for."  Marks grinned out.

"Technically, you're my shadow."

"Technically being the key word in that sentence."  Marks beamed, in a way that made Wes smile and roll his eyes.  "Also, it was very helpful research."

"And there goes the moment."  Wes commented with a small laugh.  "Now hurry up, and get out my hotel room.  Dr. Ryan will have my head if I'm five minutes late, and I'm not up for getting lectured this evening."

"Till tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah, till tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of made myself sad with this...I always fee so bad for Wes...I got a lot of Wes feels writing this.
> 
> Also, I wanted to go a bit into what Anthony's case meant to Wes, but it kind of failed. So I'll do a separate fic about it. But the budding relationship of Travis and Wes has to be worth something...so I'm happy.


End file.
